


In Other Words

by InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23295235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue
Summary: Jinwoo is tired of seeing the world through his camera lens, so he agrees to take soccer lessons from Eunwoo even though he already knows how to play soccer, because Eunwoo is handsome and brilliant and Jinwoolikeshim.Featuring too-subtle messenger cousin Minhyuk; innocent bystanders Myungjun, Sanha, and Bin; references to old cartoon cats, and a Frank Sinatra song.
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Park Jinwoo | Jin Jin
Comments: 24
Kudos: 60
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020, K-pop and K-drama AUs





	In Other Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WannaBeYourEunwoo (SherlockianSyndromes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/gifts).



> Written for the 80's book titles prompt: "To Be Continued, Park Jinwoo/Cha Eunwoo, The Color Purple (1982)"
> 
> But really written for the wonderful WannaBeYourEunwoo's birthday.
> 
> So much gratitude for the inimitable Brumeier for her endless patience and her beta services.

“Here,” Eunwoo said, one night after he and Jinwoo had spent far too long on the soccer pitch, time either of them could have used for studying.

Jinwoo, slumped on the bleachers and breathing hard, looked over at Eunwoo in confusion. “Here what?”

Eunwoo draped his purple letter jacket across Jinwoo’s shoulders. “Stay warm, or you’ll get a cramp.”

Jinwoo looked down at the jacket. Eunwoo had two letters on it, one for being captain of the basketball team, the other for being captain of the soccer team. 

“Thanks,” Jinwoo said, because the early spring air was chilly, and the sweat on his skin was already turning cold. Eunwoo’s letter jacket was very warm.

“You’re getting better very quickly,” Eunwoo said. He was also sprawled on the bleachers, head tipped back to try to see the stars above the glare of the bright lights over the pitch and the haze of the city lights around the school grounds.

“Because you’re such a good teacher,” Jinwoo said, and bit his lip. 

Eunwoo was one grade below him and was, in a word, perfection. He was devastatingly beautiful. When he’d first transferred to Jinwoo’s high school as a freshman, he’d caused quite an uproar with his unreal good looks. He was aloof, though, always studious, bent over his books even during breaks when other students bought snacks and hung out. That he’d earned third in the school overall on the first round of exams had made him the stuff of dreams for every girl in school and several nearby schools (and maybe also boys like Jinwoo). A beautiful, studious boy was the perfect kind to take home to mother.

_ (See, mother? We can date! He’ll help me improve my grades.) _

But then Eunwoo had stepped onto the basketball court one day after school and teamed up with Taesun and had been drafted onto the basketball team immediately. The number of girls who showed up to basketball practices and games to cheer tripled overnight. Jinwoo had been intrigued, because Eunwoo did look like a very studious person, but he didn’t look at all athletic. Something in the way he moved was - awkward. Hesitant. Even when he was on the court. And yet he made every pass and every basket.

After that, Eunwoo stepped onto the soccer pitch, ostensibly just to play a friendly game with Jinwoo’s younger cousin Minhyuk and his best friend Moon Bin and some of their friends, and he’d proved himself a stellar athlete there too.

Compared to Eunwoo, Jinwoo was a barely mediocre student. He was good at music because his father played drums in a band and he was surrounded by music and musicians all the time. He was good at English because he loved listening to hip-hop and the best rappers - Eminem, Dessa - were American. And he was good at photography, because he could look at whatever he wanted through the lens of a camera and no one would suspect where his heart lay.

Jinwoo wasn’t without athletic talent, had grown up playing soccer with Minhyuk and his younger brother, but that first day Eunwoo stepped onto the pitch, Jinwoo had been on the sidelines with his camera to practice taking action shots, and after all the cheering girls had dispersed and Minhyuk had taken off for Taekwondo and Bin had taken off for dance lessons, Eunwoo had come over to Jinwoo, soccer ball tucked against his hip, and said,

“Would you like to learn?”

Jinwoo hesitated, because he was always slow to speak. He knew how to play soccer.

Only Eunwoo had taken his hesitation for shyness or something else, and he said,

“It’s more fun than being on the sidelines.” And then he’d noticed Jinwoo’s camera and added, “Not that photography isn’t fun.”

And Jinwoo, because he was tired of seeing the world through his camera lens, said, “Sure, I’d like to learn.”

That was how Jinwoo ended up spending one evening a week on the soccer pitch with Eunwoo, the sole focus of his attention. It was very intense, though probably not the way most girls imagined it to be. Eunwoo was as rigorous an athlete as he was a student, and he took it upon himself to be Jinwoo’s personal coach, as if Jinwoo was going to compete with a team sometime in the future. He had Jinwoo do shuttle runs and sprints and stretches and calisthenics. He had Jinwoo do dribbling and shooting drills. By the end of every practice, Jinwoo was exhausted. Happy, but exhausted.

He did feel a little guilty, letting Eunwoo think he was a beginner at soccer, especially when Eunwoo praised his speed and stamina and ‘natural athleticism’.

Jinwoo’s dishonest silence was worth it, the first time Eunwoo stood behind him and put his hands on Jinwoo’s hips and leaned in and murmured in his ear.

“Put your non-kicking foot beside the ball. Keep your head down and your eyes on the ball when you strike. Keep your body over the ball.”

Jinwoo nodded and let Eunwoo reposition him gently.

Then Eunwoo knelt in front of him and set the ball down.

“You want to make contact with the middle to top half of the ball. If you want to score well, don’t kick the ball high. Sixty-two percent of goals are scored low. A sidefoot shot will be more accurate, but an instep shot - with your laces - will have better power if you give it good follow-through.” Eunwoo put his hands on Jinwoo’s sneaker and showed him where on his foot he should make shots from.

Jinwoo had seen those moments in dramas hundreds of times, where the hero tied the heroine’s shoelace or checked her injured ankle or helped her put on her shoe, and he’d thought those moments were silly and condescending, because those girls were capable of handling their own shoes, and he could handle his own shoelaces and take care of himself if he were hurt, and what was even remotely romantic about those moments?

Having Eunwoo’s hands on him, even through the fabric of his sneakers, made his heart pound. If having Eunwoo’s focus on him while he was running around the soccer pitch was intense, having it on him while they were this close together was - 

Well. There was a reason there was a moment like this in every drama.

And there was a reason Jinwoo showed up for private soccer lessons each week, even if he felt more and more guilty knowing that he was taking up Eunwoo’s valuable study time and practice time for other things (he played the piano, guitar, flute, and violin).

“If you wanted to try out for the soccer team next year, you could probably make it,” Eunwoo said. “I know your cousin is going to try out. He’s good. He’ll make it. You could play together.”

He smiled at Jinwoo.

If Eunwoo was otherworldly perfection when he was bowed over his books in the classroom, pale face carved from marble as he focused intently on his notes, when he smiled he was beautiful beyond words, sweet and human and almost in reach for someone like Jinwoo. Almost.

“I appreciate your optimism for me,” Jinwoo said with a little laugh.

Eunwoo nudged him. “Really. You got so good so fast. Imagine what having a real coach would do. If you worked really hard, you could get to college on a soccer scholarship. Maybe you could even go to college overseas.”

Jinwoo would do his service after his first year of college, just like his father and older brother before him. He would major in either applied music or photography, and he’d find a quiet, honorable way to live his life, even if he disappointed his parents by never finding a nice girl and settling down.

“I - thank you,” Jinwoo said, because he couldn’t bear to lie to Eunwoo any longer.

Before Eunwoo could say more and make Jinwoo feel even more guilty, someone’s phone buzzed. Both of them reached for their backpacks to check.

Eunwoo said, “My little brother finished at hagwon early. I’d better go walk him home.”

“You’re such a good big brother and firstborn son,” Jinwoo said.

Eunwoo sensed the dryness in Jinwoo’s tone, and he reached out, ruffled Jinwoo’s hair and said, with as much condescension as he could muster for someone a whole year older than him, “And you’re such a cute maknae.”

Jinwoo wanted to lean into Eunwoo’s touch, but instead he just shrugged and tossed his head, dislodging Eunwoo’s hand. “I try.”

Eunwoo scooped up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. “Have a good night, Jinwoo.” He stood and dusted himself off.

Jinwoo said, “Good night.” And then, “Wait. Your jacket.” He started to shrug it off.

Eunwoo said, “Take care of it for me. I’ll want it back this summer.”

Jinwoo stared at him. “Summer?”

Eunwoo said, “I’m going overseas for a semester to study English.”

“Wow,” Jinwoo said. “Overseas. That’s -” He swallowed down a comment about money.

Eunwoo ducked his head and said, “My parents are sacrificing a lot so I can do well.” Then he looked at Jinwoo. “You’re pretty good at English, aren’t you? And not just from listening to a lot of rap and watching a lot of American movies.”

“Good enough,” Jinwoo said.

“What’s your English name?”

“Steven. Or Steve, for some people.” Jinwoo’s heart was pounding. Eunwoo was leaving? Just like that? Why hadn’t he  _ told _ Jinwoo before? Only it wasn’t like the two of them were friends. Eunwoo wasn’t obligated to tell Jinwoo his life plans. He swallowed hard. “What about you?”

“Felix,” Eunwoo said.

That wasn’t an easy name to say, but then neither was Steven. 

Eunwoo waved and started walking away. “I’ll see you in the summer. Don’t forget me.”

Jinwoo waved back weakly. As if he could forget Cha Eunwoo.

He sat there in the rapidly-falling darkness, wrapped in Eunwoo’s purple letter jacket, and feeling hollow inside.

He finally dragged himself home when his mother called, asking him where he was, if he was all right.

He wasn’t all right. He skipped dinner and went straight to bed.

And lay there, staring at the handful of photos he had on his camera of Cha Eunwoo from that first time he’d gone to play soccer with Minhyuk and Bin and the other boys. In all those hours spending time with Eunwoo at soccer practice, Jinwoo hadn’t taken a single picture of him. He’d never dared to take photos of just Eunwoo, feeling too exposed and raw even with a camera lens between them. Having Eunwoo’s full attention for several hours one night a week was better than photos could ever be.

But those times were done and gone, and now Jinwoo had nothing.

Except Eunwoo’s jacket, which was warm and still smelled like him, like soap and shampoo and something else, something faint but that made Jinwoo’s heartbeat stutter a little bit.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Jinwoo saw Eunwoo around school, but obviously he was busy wrapping things up and preparing for his semester abroad, so he didn’t have time for anything social with anyone, not with his basketball teammates or his soccer teammates or his friends on the debate team or in the robotics club or in the orchestra.

No wonder Eunwoo was going overseas to study. It was a miracle he was alive with how crazy his schedule was.

When the semester break arrived, Jinwoo spent most of it acting as a roadie for his father’s band, hauling equipment and being a stagehand during gigs, and at the end of each day he was so tired he barely had time or energy to think about anything but how much he had to do the next day. It was a good experience, though, because he got to play the drums on some cover songs he knew really well, and also during performances he got to take pictures, act as the band’s official photographer, and he knew other boys his age wouldn’t have the chance to have nearly the same experiences with a real live rock band.

He thought of Eunwoo, though. All the time. Because he wore Eunwoo’s letter jacket. His parents didn’t think much of it, because it was in his school colors. Some of Jinwoo’s father’s bandmates thought the jacket was cool, a nice rebel touch, because Jinwoo was hardly the sort to letter in some kind of sport. He’d picked it up at a vintage store, right?

Jinwoo  _ missed _ Eunwoo fiercely, which was stupid, because he’d never  _ had _ Eunwoo in the first place.

He and Eunwoo were in contact on KakaoTalk, because Eunwoo had sent him videos of soccer techniques for him to study and practice on his own, because Eunwoo was as diligent in his hobbies as he was in everything he did. Jinwoo sent Eunwoo a message, a simple  _ Hope you made it safe! _ but there was no reply. 

It occurred to Jinwoo that he had no idea where overseas Eunwoo had gone, and there was no one at school he could ask, because none of his friends were Eunwoo’s friends, though perhaps Minhyuk counted as a friend of a friend, since some of his friends were on the soccer team with Eunwoo.

Jinwoo never wore Eunwoo’s jacket at school, because that was just asking for trouble, wearing a letter jacket he hadn’t earned, but outside of school - well, it was still spring, still cool in the evenings, and Eunwoo had reminded him to stay warm.

Jinwoo stared at that unanswered message over and over again and finally forced himself to put his phone away and focus on the task at hand, which was setting up his father’s drums in an impossibly small space but leaving his father room to be able to play.

Halfway through the band’s performance several hours later, Jinwoo handed out water bottles to the musicians so they could catch their breath, wet their dry throats. Then he sat down on the edge of the stage and checked his phone idly, and he saw that he had a new email.

It was from someone he’d never heard of, whose screen name was SilverTheCat.

The email was in English.

_ Dear Steven, _

_ I hope you are well. The weather here is pleasant. My room is small but comfortable. My instructor is very kind. I am his only student, so I can learn a lot, but I am also a bit lonely. Take care and practice hard. _

It was signed with a cartoon drawing of a black-and-white cat.

It took Jinwoo a moment to understand the email.

Who was Silver The Cat?

Jinwoo hopped onto a portal site and searched for silver cartoon cats, but nothing came up. He flipped back to the email, still puzzled. It was a polite, almost friendly email. He stared at the picture of the cartoon cat some more. Then he went back to the portal site and looked up black and white cats.

Garfield was at the top of the list despite not being black and white.

But two entries down was Felix the Cat, a cat who’d been in cartoons for over a hundred years.

And finally Jinwoo remembered. Eunwoo’s English name was Felix.

Eunwoo’s name in meant was Silver and Divine Protection. Silver The Cat. Of course.

Jinwoo had told Eunwoo what his English name was, but no one ever used it outside of English class, and half the time no one used it  _ in _ English class anyway, so he hadn’t thought the message was actually meant for him.

It took Jinwoo a while to figure out how to activate the English keyboard on his phone, but then intermission was over and he shoved his phone into his pocket and got back to work.

Hours later, Jinwoo lay on his bed, Eunwoo’s jacket over him like a blanket, and typed back a reply.

_ Dear Felix, _

_ I am well. I am glad the weather is pleasant and your room is comfortable. You are very smart and I am sure you are learning well. I am sorry you are lonely. If you have a chance, go play some soccer and think of me and be less lonely. I will practice hard. _

Jinwoo tried to think of a cute way to sign his email, considered a picture of Captain America, but that was going too far. He considered a picture of Steven Universe. Eventually he settled for,

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

He pressed  _ send _ before he could chicken out.

* * *

If waiting for a reply to a simple KakaoTalk message had been hard, waiting for a reply to an email was harder. School was back in session and Jinwoo was supposed to be focusing on his studies afresh, but he was constantly sneaking peeks at his phone under his desk and checking for new emails during breaks and he almost got caught by three different teachers in the first week. 

Where was Eunwoo? Was he in a very different time zone? Was he studying just English or was he taking all his other subjects as well? Was he taking those subjects in English too? Jinwoo wanted to know. But he couldn’t ask till Eunwoo replied to his email. 

Every night, Jinwoo curled on his bed with Eunwoo’s letter jacket and alternated between checking his phone and looking up ways to say things in English, things he could say in his next email, things he’d never dared to say aloud or in Korean, where anyone could hear and understand. 

He was lying on his bed late one night, after a long day of school and studying and then helping his father’s band with a gig, checking his phone and absently petting the soft letters on Eunwoo’s purple jacket, when his inbox finally alerted him to a new email from Silver The Cat. Jinwoo tapped on it immediately, holding his breath.

It was - short.

_ Dear Steven, _

_ I am pleased you are practicing hard. We should play a game when I get back. A true test of skills is under pressure. I play soccer with the local children in the street after classes and I think of you and sometimes I am less lonely, but I miss you. Study hard and practice hard. _

It was signed, just like last time, with the cartoon black-and-white cat, Felix.

Jinwoo read it over and over again.

_ But I miss you, _ Eunwoo had written. Did it mean the same thing in English as it did in Korean? Was  _ I miss you _ like  _ I long for you _ or was it  _ I didn’t see you today and I’m used to seeing you so I noticed, briefly, that you were gone? _

Jinwoo missed Eunwoo every day even though he had no right to. They weren’t in the same class, but Jinwoo had somehow learned, over half a school year, when he and Eunwoo would cross paths in the halls or on the quad, and every time they should have seen each other Jinwoo was reminded that Eunwoo was gone. Of course, Jinwoo missed their soccer practices. He missed Eunwoo’s gaze on him, and the warmth of his hands, and his beautiful voice that was deep and light at the same time.

What could Jinwoo write back that wouldn’t reveal his feelings but would be sincere?

He sat up and rearranged the jacket across his knees to keep his legs warm, and he studied Eunwoo’s email message again. Writing poetry for literature class was easier than writing an email to the boy he liked. Writing raps was easier than sending an email. He’d had all kinds of questions for Eunwoo that he’d been dying to ask for days. Where had all those questions gone?

Then Jinwoo squared his shoulders. He was a good rapper. He could rhyme and flow on the fly. Surely he could write an email on the fly. When he emailed Minhyuk or his own older brother at university, he didn’t think about it. He just wrote. So he just wrote. To Eunwoo.

_ Dear Felix, _

_ I would enjoy playing soccer with you when you get back. I am studying hard and still practicing hard. Also I am taking good care of your jacket. _

At that, Jinwoo paused. Would it be too weird to send a picture? 

That was silly. Jinwoo sent pictures of himself to his friends all the time. Granted, usually he was making a face or eating food or doing something silly, but -

Whatever. He and Eunwoo were friends. Or at least very close acquaintances. He could send Eunwoo a picture. Eunwoo had sent him Minion memes in their chat, as well as links to soccer videos and pictures of soccer techniques in still frames so he could see how to position his body, how to kick the ball.

Jinwoo shrugged into Eunwoo’s jacket and then had to search for the best angle and light so he could show off the jacket - and so he looked pretty good. There was no reason to not look good in a picture. After all, he wanted the jacket to look good too, as proof that he was taking good care of it. Jinwoo took several pictures, then frowned at how his face looked. Should he put on his glasses so his nose didn’t look as big? Should he wash his face and put on some BB cream? Would it be wrong to use a filter? Although everyone used a filter these days. He could pick a subtle filter.

Jinwoo was a good photographer. He needed to stop fretting about whether Eunwoo would  _ like _ him because of a nice photo and focus on the elements of composition. The subject of the photo was the jacket, not Jinwoo. In fact, did Eunwoo even need to see his face in the picture? Except would it look like someone else was wearing the jacket if Eunwoo couldn’t see his face? Only why would Eunwoo think something crazy like Jinwoo was letting someone else wear his jacket?

Jinwoo took several photos, and finally he settled on one that showed off as much of the jacket as possible without totally cutting off his face so he was clearly the person wearing it, and he attached it to his email.

Then he typed out a few more carefully-worded questions in English.

_ Where are you studying? (If you can say.) Are you taking classes besides English? What other classes are you taking? Are your other classes also in English? Are you eating well? Do you enjoy the food there? _

Oh no. Jinwoo was asking about food. He sounded like his own mother. He went to delete the question, then shook his head. It was a perfectly legitimate question between close acquaintances.

Jinwoo added,  _ I miss you too. _

If Eunwoo had written it, he could write it back without making things weird.

Once again, Jinwoo signed it,

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

And sent it.

He watched the cursor circle, waited to hear the  _ swoosh _ sound of an email sent.

And then he waited for a reply.

There was none. 

Perhaps Eunwoo had gone to bed? If he was in a different time zone, it could be terribly late where he was. It was late for Jinwoo as it was - he should have been asleep at least an hour ago.

Jinwoo watched a few videos of drum techniques on YouTube - he’d never quite mastered a purdy shuffle - and checked his email again.

Nothing.

He sighed, turned off his phone, and snuggled under the covers with the jacket on top of the blanket for extra warmth.

He shouldn’t get his hopes up. He and Eunwoo weren’t even technically friends.

* * *

Even though Eunwoo was who knew where, studying English and playing soccer with strangers and possibly forgetting about Jinwoo, who wasn’t even really a friend, Jinwoo practiced his soccer. He didn’t spend as long or go as hard as he had when Eunwoo was there guiding him and cheering him on, but he spent a half hour here and there on the pitch after school when missing Eunwoo became too much, when his empty email inbox gnawed at him. If he was running around on the pitch, he could imagine Eunwoo was there with him, telling him to watch his footwork, maintain his balance, keep his eye on the ball. He could imagine that Eunwoo would be impressed with how he’d kept up with practice while they were separated.

Jinwoo’s practice even without Eunwoo must have been paying off, because during PE class one week, Coach Im took him aside.

“You’re looking really good out there. Your dribbling is much better, and your passing and shooting is solid. Have you been going to a hagwon?”

“Thank you, Coach.” Jinwoo bowed politely. “But - no. I haven’t been going to a hagwon. I got some pointers from a friend, and I’ve been practicing on my own.”

Coach Im clapped him on the shoulder. “Obviously you’ve been working very hard. You should try out for the soccer team next season. We’ll train this summer, and then practice will start in the fall. Park Minhyuk is your cousin, yes? Soccer must run in the family.”

“I’ll think about,” Jinwoo said. 

Think about it he did, whenever he was staring at his phone and willing it to notify him of a new email from Eunwoo. What if he did join the soccer team? Then he’d have a purple letter jacket of his own. He could let Eunwoo wear it, and then no one would notice when he wore Eunwoo’s (except for the part where Eunwoo had two letters and Jinwoo would be lucky to get one). Jinwoo’s mother would be pleased with him, for getting out and being more social with other kids his age instead of spending all his time alone in his room listening to old music (and thinking about Eunwoo) or hanging out with his father’s band listening to old music (and thinking about Eunwoo). Jinwoo’s father would be glad he was spending more time with his cousin. As if Jinwoo didn’t see Minhyuk every day on the way to and from school, if not during lunch breaks and after school.

Jinwoo thought about being on the same team as Eunwoo, the two of them sitting on the bus together on the way to games against other schools, maybe even sharing a hotel room (with probably at least two other boys crammed in with them, but they could even share a bed and no one would think twice about it).

Jinwoo thought about being in the same locker room as Eunwoo, breathless and sweaty after practice or even after winning a game, high on adrenaline -

No. Jinwoo was very good at  _ not _ getting distracted by attractive classmates in the locker rooms after PE. He wasn’t about to ruin his self-discipline now.

Jinwoo, still thinking about whether or not he should try out for the soccer team just to have something a bit special on his resume when he applied to universities and colleges, was sitting on the sidelines of another of his father’s performances, when his phone buzzed.

New email from Silver The Cat.

Jinwoo’s heart leapt. He set his camera aside and unlocked his phone.

The first thing he saw was an adorable picture of Eunwoo grinning and flashing a peace sign, surrounded by a bunch of round-faced, dark-skinned little kids, one of them hugging a soccer ball, all of them beaming at the camera.

Jinwoo sighed happily. 

Then he read the actual email.

_ Dear Steven, _

_ I am studying in the Philippines. I like it here very much. The people are very friendly. I am an exchange student at a high school here, and I am taking all of my classes in English in addition to having English lessons with my tutor individually. I have to study a lot to make sure I understand the subjects in Korean as well as English, so I do not have a lot of time to socialize with the other students, so I am still a bit lonely, but the children who live on my street let me play soccer with them. They are so fast! And they can run for much longer than me before they get tired. _

_ I am eating very well here. Because Korean students learning English are not uncommon around here, there is good Korean food, but also I like the local food. Street vendors sell bananas fried in honey, candy, and delicious sticky rice. Also the hamburgers here are delicious. There is a Jollibee restaurant down the street from my dorm, and I probably eat there too often. I hope you are also eating well and studying well. _

_ Maybe when I get back, we can have a meal out at a Filipino restaurant. I am sure we can find one in Itaewon. _

_ What are you doing for fun, besides practicing soccer? I hope you are not spending all your time studying and practicing. There is more to life than those two things. Are you able to get out and take lots of pictures? I know you enjoy photography. _

_ Take care. _

Once again, it was signed with the picture of Felix the Cat.

Beneath that was another selca of Eunwoo wearing a pink shirt and looking adorable as he posed with a soda cup decorated with what looked like a cartoon bee on it.

It took Jinwoo longer than he’d have liked to figure out that the picture of a bee was a reference to  _ Jollibee, _ which was basically  _ jolly bee. _ After some poking around on a portal site, Jinwoo discovered that it was a chain restaurant, and there was precisely one of them in Korea. Based on the online reviews, the place had good service and wasn’t too expensive. It would be a decent place for a meal out.

It wasn’t as if Jinwoo was taking Eunwoo on a date, after all.

Jinwoo spent a long time thinking up a reply. Then it occurred to him to look up the time difference between Korea and the Philippines, and he discovered that it was only an hour earlier where Eunwoo was, so if Jinwoo sent a reply soon, there was a chance Eunwoo could read it and maybe reply as well.

_ Dear Felix, _

_ I am glad you are eating well and playing lots of soccer and studying well. I am sure you will not fall behind too much. I know you always work very hard and practice very hard. _

_ I am still practicing soccer. Coach Im thinks maybe I should try out for the team, but I am not sure I am quite that good yet. It is thanks to you that he thinks I have improved that much, so I am very grateful. _

_ There is a Jollibee in Seoul, if you would like to go for a meal when you return. You can teach me which menu items are the most delicious. _

_ I do photography when I am not studying or practicing soccer. I usually take pictures of my father’s band when they play at bars and other places. Also I help them with their equipment. I am their roadie. Sometimes my father lets me play the drums for some songs in his place, so he can have a break and so I can practice my skills. Maybe one day I will play in a band of my own. _

_ Here are some pictures I have taken. _

_ I am still taking good care of your jacket. _

_ I will see you in summer. _

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

As Eunwoo hadn’t made any further mention of missing Jinwoo, Jinwoo made no mention of missing Eunwoo, but he did, fiercely. The pictures Eunwoo had sent only made his longing sharper, but there was nothing to be done about it. Eunwoo was just a close acquaintance. He was a diligent student and probably just emailing Jinwoo to practice his English skills.

That didn’t mean Jinwoo didn’t spend far too much time picking through his latest selection of photos from tonight’s gig and attaching them to the email. He added little captions underneath them so Eunwoo would know who everyone was.

Then, heart pounding, he sent the email.

After the current song ended, the people in the bar applauded politely.

Jinwoo looked up just as his father stood up and stretched, and he scrambled to distribute bottles of water.

“Son, you’re up for the next number.”

Jinwoo’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, you know this song well.”

Jinwoo accepted the drum sticks that his father held out to him, and he went to climb onto the drum throne, and then he paused. He held his phone out to his father, who accepted it, puzzled. “Will you film this for me?”

His father considered, then nodded. “Sure. You’re always taking video and pictures of us, but no one ever records you.”

Jinwoo grinned and then vaulted over the floor tom. He adjusted some of the drums and cymbals so they were more comfortable for him, did a test filler to make sure it was how he liked, and then the lead singer introduced the next song - and Jinwoo on the drums - and there was some more applause.

Jinwoo counted them in, and he let loose.

When the song ended, there was even more applause. Jinwoo took his bows, then hurried to trade places with his father. They exchanged drum sticks for a phone, and Jinwoo grabbed his camera, resumed taking pictures. His heart was still racing from the adrenaline rush of performance. He’d totally rocked it. It was a song he’d played more times than he could count growing up because it was fun, and his father letting him play it live was almost a tradition for gigs now.

He’d make sure the video was all right, and he’d send it to Eunwoo with his next email.

* * *

“What’s this I hear about you trying out for the soccer team with me next year?” Minhyuk leaned against the pillar next to where Jinwoo was setting up his father’s drums at an outdoor gig at a park.

Thankfully the band was performing in a pavilion, which had power outlets for all their gear and would also protect them from the weather, which was supposed to be nice, but spring was here, and with spring came the rain.

Jinwoo fished in his pocket for his keys. He kept a drum key on his keyring so he could always help out even if his dad wasn’t around or the actual key for the drums had gotten lost (again).

“I haven’t decided if I will try out,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “So it’s an actual possibility? Because you’re not that good at soccer.”

“I’ve improved,” Jinwoo said defensively. He raised his eyebrows. “What brings  _ you _ here? You don’t play any musical instruments.”

Minhyuk said, “I sing better than you, though.”

That gave Jinwoo pause. “Dad’s going to let you sing?”

“Maybe.” Minhyuk shrugged. Then he reached out, tugged Jinwoo’s sleeve. “Who’d you steal this from? Did you beat up one of the track team again?”

Jinwoo shrugged Minhyuk’s hand off. “First of all, I didn’t beat anybody up that time. Second of all, I’m just - borrowing it.”

“You’re not close friends with anyone who’s lettered in either basketball or soccer,” Minhyuk said. “Unless…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing.

“Unless what?” Jinwoo asked.

“You said you’d improved at soccer.”

“I have.”

“Are you borrowing that jacket, or did someone give it to you to wear?”

“I’m just borrowing it,” Jinwoo said, which was kind of the truth. Eunwoo had given him the jacket to look after while he was gone, and once he returned, Jinwoo would give the jacket back. “I’m taking care of it.”

“Is it incentive to join the soccer team? So you know what it’ll feel like?” Minhyuk went to tug on the sleeve again, but Jinwoo dodged.

“It’s to keep me warm,” Jinwoo said loftily. He was wary of the knowing look in Minhyuk’s eyes.

“All right.” Minhyuk straightened up. “Speaking of warm, I’m going to warm up my voice. See you later.” He walked away.

Jinwoo resumed fixing up the drums. He looked down at the jacket and thought maybe it was time to wash it. He should wash it by hand, to protect it. He’d check the tag, to be sure.

Jinwoo would be the first to admit that Minhyuk sounded really good when he took the mic for one of the songs, and he took lots of pictures to commemorate Minhyuk’s unofficial debut. It would have been easy to resent his younger, more talented cousin, but Jinwoo knew Minhyuk worked hard to be good at the things he cared about, and Jinwoo admired that.

Jinwoo worked hard, too. He cared about fewer things, was all. He cared about drumming, rap, photography - and Cha Eunwoo.

After the applause died down, Minhyuk hopped off the stage and sauntered over to Jinwoo, who was standing on the sidelines and watching, smiling.

“Send me the best ones,” Minhyuk said, nodding at Jinwoo’s camera.

He nodded.

Minhyuk tugged at the sleeve of Jinwoo’s - Eunwoo’s - jacket. “Take good care of this. Someone worked hard for it.”

“I know,” Jinwoo said. “I know he worked very hard.”

Minhyuk, still with that knowing in his eyes, turned and walked away.

That night, after Jinwoo’s father’s gig was over and Jinwoo was sent home while his father and bandmates went out for celebratory drinks, Jinwoo approached his mother with the jacket.

“I’m supposed to take care of this,” he said. “I need to wash it. I’m pretty sure I can’t just throw it in the washing machine.”

His mother accepted the jacket from him, checked it over. “It doesn’t have any stains.”

“I’m being careful with it. Just -” It didn’t smell like Eunwoo anymore, hadn’t for weeks. Jinwoo offered his mother a winsome smile. “Help, please?”

His mother showed him the laundry tag, explained what the different symbols on it meant. Then she showed Jinwoo which soap to use, and the correct temperature of water with which to fill the sink, and she showed him how to hand-wash it. He rolled up his sleeves and watched her closely, did the majority of the work himself, because Eunwoo had entrusted the jacket to him. When it was done, he squeezed the excess water out of it carefully and then laid it flat to dry on a towel in his room.

He sat on his bed to supervise it, and he studied it, considered all the many hours it had taken Eunwoo to earn it, hours upon hours, week after week, year after year, on the basketball court and soccer pitch, running and sweating and aching, falling and getting back up again. 

What had Eunwoo seen in Jinwoo, that he thought Jinwoo was worthy of watching over the precious jacket and all that had gone into earning it?

He turned on some music and, after some hesitation, cracked open his books to do his studying.

“Dinner in half an hour,” his mother called from the kitchen, and he called back a vague acknowledgment.

Eunwoo had been third in the entire school on the exams. How hard must he have studied, to achieve that? Jinwoo stared down at his own scribbled, half-illegible notes and thought that if he tried as hard at school as he had at soccer and photography and playing the drums, he could do a little better too.

His phone buzzed at his knee, interrupting the song that was playing for a moment.

Jinwoo paused Dessa’s voice, the pure poetry she spun, and checked his phone.

New email from Silver The Cat.

His heart leapt.

He unlocked his phone and checked it immediately.

_ Dear Steven,  _

_ I did not know you played the drums. How long have you been playing for? I wish I could see you play. Also the photographs you sent are very pretty, very artistic. You must have worked very hard to be able to take such good pictures when you cannot control the staging or the subjects. Also, your father is handsome. You take after him very much. _

_ If Coach Im thinks you should try out for the soccer team, it means he thinks you are good enough to make it. It would be fun to be teammates. We could be roommates for away games. _

Jinwoo’s pulse stuttered. He’d thought the exact same thing.

_ Thank you for taking good care of my jacket. It looks good on you. _

_ I was not able to bring most of my musical instruments with me, but there is a piano in one of the classrooms at school, so I can play it sometimes. I think it is wonderful that you can play drums in your father’s band sometimes. I miss playing music with my younger brother. _

_ Perhaps one day you and I could play together. _

The email was signed, as always, with a little picture of Felix the Cat.

There was an attachment at the bottom. A video.

Jinwoo tapped on it. It was Eunwoo playing piano.

The room he was in was small, and the piano was a battered old upright shoved against a wall covered in faded flyers, and the overhead lighting was fluorescent and harsh, but Jinwoo didn’t care. Eunwoo looked calm, serene, his hands on the keys graceful and sure. The song was soft, gentle, trilling, and Jinwoo swayed to it almost absently. For all that Eunwoo was swift and aggressive on the soccer pitch and basketball court, at a piano he was - not demure or timid. But this was a side of him Jinwoo had never seen before, probably because he’d never gone to any of the school orchestra’s performances. When Eunwoo was focused on his books, he seemed cold and aloof. At a piano, he was warm and happy.

And beautiful.

He was beautiful  _ because _ he looked happy.

Obviously Jinwoo would have to start going to the school orchestra concerts.

He watched the video a dozen times more before he remembered that he ought to write back.

_ Dear Felix, _

_ I started playing drums in the third grade. My father teaches me. When you get back, maybe you could see me play at one of my father’s concerts. Thank you for the compliments on my photography. I am glad you appreciate my pictures. I will tell my father you think he is handsome. _

_ Do you look more like your mother or your father? My older brother looks more like my mother. Does your younger brother look much like you? What instruments does he play? My older brother plays the guitar, and sometimes we play together as well. _

_ I will think more about joining the soccer team. I will practice hard until you return. I would like being roommates with you for away games. We could sit together on the bus, too. _

_ Thank you for the video. The song is beautiful. I will attend your school concerts in future. _

_ I hope to hear from you again soon. _

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

Jinwoo attached the video his father had taken of him playing the drums, and he sent the email before he could chicken out.

He watched the video of Eunwoo playing piano a few times more, and he saved it to his phone for good measure.

* * *

After that, Jinwoo watched the video over and over again, whenever he had a spare moment and no one else was around. Sometimes between classes he would watch the video with the sound off, memorizing the way Eunwoo looked, his expression as he played, the line of his hands, those moments when he would glance at the camera and it felt like he was looking at Jinwoo. Jinwoo wanted to take a thousand pictures of Eunwoo playing the piano. 

Eunwoo continued to send him emails with cute pictures attached, of himself in his new uniform, with the neighborhood children playing soccer, with a big statue of the Jollibee mascot, of himself eating food from street vendors. Jinwoo wondered if he was the only one who got to see these pictures or if Eunwoo sent them to everyone who knew him. Was he posting them on SNS? What was his username on SNS? Would it be weird if Jinwoo followed him? He didn’t have to follow him to check his posts, though. 

Jinwoo’s life wasn’t nearly as interesting, so he mostly sent Eunwoo pictures he’d taken that he thought had turned out particularly well. He wanted to do something clever, like go on a bunch of adventures while wearing the jacket and make a whole series of it: The Adventures of Eunwoo’s Purple Letter Jacket, but between school and studying and working with his father, he didn’t get out much. He did make sure he was wearing the jacket whenever he sent a selca to Eunwoo, just as proof that he was staying warm and keeping an eye on the jacket at all times. 

He had to resist the urge to say things in his emails that he shouldn’t say, that would give away how he felt about Eunwoo.  _ I miss you all the time  _ was deleted and replaced by  _ We should play soccer often when you get back.  _

Jinwoo once typed  _ I like you _ and had to erase it quickly. His brain froze for a moment, because he’d typed that without thinking. Instead he typed,  _ I feel like we are becoming closer.  _ He didn’t dare call them friends yet, even though he felt like he knew as much about Eunwoo as he did about his other friends, because Eunwoo was open and honest with him, telling him about his family and when school was hard. 

Jinwoo wanted to say,  _ Getting an email from you is the best part of my day. _ He said instead,  _ Thank you for practicing English with me. _

He was curled up on his bed late on Saturday morning after a late night at a gig with his father and an even later night studying when his door opened. 

“Hey, come watch a movie with us.” It was Minhyuk. 

Jinwoo immediately closed the video of Eunwoo playing the piano and set his phone down.

Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Have you been sleeping with that jacket?”

Jinwoo sat up. “It’s warm,” he said. He had been sleeping with the jacket over his covers like an extra blanket. It wasn’t like he was putting it on a pillow and snuggling it or anything weird. 

“And yet your mother has a dozen blankets in the cupboard in the hall,” Minhyuk said.

If Jinwoo didn’t make a big deal out of the jacket, didn’t get too defensive about it, Minhyuk would leave the subject alone. If Jinwoo wasn’t bothered by it, why should Minhyuk be? It wasn’t as if he could figure out who the jacket belonged to just by looking at it. Eunwoo’s name wasn’t on it or anything.

“You said  _ come watch a movie with us.  _ Who’s  _ us?” _ Jinwoo asked.

“Me, Sanha, and Myungjun,” Minhyuk said.

Myungjun was Sanha’s older cousin, was two years older than Jinwoo and had just finished his first year of university and was getting ready to enlist. Where Myungjun was as short as Sanha was tall, they were definitely related, had the same sense of silliness and loudness and energy, though Myungjun had gotten the majority of all of those traits. Being around either of them for an extended period of time could be trying. Being around both of them for the entire length of a movie? Jinwoo was tired just thinking about it.

“Please?” Minhyuk asked. For all that Sanha was one of his best friends, he wasn’t blind to the other boy’s flaws, and sometimes he needed someone to share the burden of spending time with such energetic people.

“I’m not suffering alone,” Jinwoo said. “Call Bin to come over as well.”

For whatever reason, Sanha was a bit afraid of Bin even though he was already taller than Bin. Maybe it was because Bin lifted weights and was a lot stronger. Bin could help keep Sanha in line while Jinwoo wrangled Myungjun.

Minhyuk nodded. “All right.”

“That’ll give me time to wash up and dress.” Jinwoo made a shooing gesture, and Minhyuk left, fishing his phone out of his pocket to call Bin as he went.

Jinwoo showered quickly, dressed and brushed his teeth and washed his face. He didn’t bother doing much with his hair since he had no plans to go out. The house was a little chilly because his mother liked to keep it cooler, so he grabbed Eunwoo’s jacket and shrugged it on, then headed downstairs. His mother was out with her friends and his father was probably still sleeping off the exhaustion of last night’s gig.

Jinwoo headed across the street to Minhyuk’s house, paused at the door to shed his shoes and toe on his slippers - he and Minhyuk had lived in each other’s houses all growing up - and padded into the den.

He greeted his aunt, who smiled and patted his hair and handed him a tray of snacks to take to the couch where Myungjun and Sanha were already huddled together under the same blanket. Even though Myungjun was the maknae in his own family - same as Sanha and Jinwoo - he was the oldest of their friend group, and as a result he’d been given control of the remote and the choice to pick the movie.

Which was, unsurprisingly, a romantic comedy. That it was an American film was a bit of a surprise, because Myungjun was notoriously the worst of all of them at English. Of course, they’d watch the movie with subtitles, but Jinwoo was hoping he wouldn’t need them much.

“Nice jacket,” Sanha said, a little pointedly, as Jinwoo set the tray of snacks on the coffee table.

Myungjun missed the pointedness of his tone and only glanced at Jinwoo briefly. “That color’s good on you.”

Jinwoo smiled. “Thanks, hyung.”

Minhyuk tended to sit on the floor and stretch when they watched movies. For all that he was laconic in conversation, he was forever in motion. 

Jinwoo settled onto the loveseat. There was an armchair left for Bin, who arrived a few minutes later. He paid his respects to Minhyuk’s mother, and then he sprawled on the armchair and snagged an entire bowl of fruit for himself.

“A romcom? Really?” Bin noticed the DVD menu and groaned.

“It has a good soundtrack,” Myungjun protested. 

“Better cover Sanha’s eyes if there’s kissing,” Jinwoo said. “He’s too young to know what goes on between boys and girls.”

Sanha shot back, “I bet I’ve kissed more girls than you have.”

“You might be right,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo threw a pillow at him.

Myungjun was right, though - the movie had a pretty good soundtrack, a clever mix of American pop songs whose lyrics fit the scenes really well. Thankfully the subtitles included the song lyrics. The movie itself was a stereotypical romantic comedy - the handsome, popular boy falling for the plain, studious girl who was secretly hot after a random makeover by some well-meaning friend. There would be a misunderstanding, some angst, and then a reunion with a kiss and a swell of music and maybe some fireworks.

Even though American schools were very different - notwithstanding the lack of uniforms and after school cleaning - some things were always the same for teenagers, the pressure to fit in but also excel and be unique and special. The tall, strong, handsome boy was, of course, an athlete, and the girl was supposed to help him study.

Jinwoo was neither a tall strong athlete nor a studious nerd. Eunwoo was both by himself. Where did Jinwoo fit in, for Eunwoo?

As if that mattered. They weren’t dating, after all. And this movie had no real parallels to Jinwoo’s existence and his tentative friendship with Eunwoo. Except that the boy wore his fancy letter jacket all the time, because it marked his status as an athlete.

There was one scene in the movie where the boy was walking the girl home after she’d watched one of his football games, and because it was cold the boy gave her his jacket to stay warm. Once they reached her house, the girl went to give it back, but the boy told her to keep it and wear it.

“Why?” the girl asked.

“So everyone knows you’re mine,” the boy said, and kissed her.

Sanha squealed and covered his eyes. Bin threw a pillow at him. 

“I’ve heard that’s a thing, in America,” Myungjun said wisely. “They don’t have couple tees or anything, but the boy will give the girl something of his to wear, like a jacket or shirt, and the girl might give the boy something to wear too, like a bracelet she made or a necklace or something.”

Jinwoo looked down at Eunwoo’s jacket, then over at Minhyuk, who was smirking at him.

No. Impossible. Eunwoo wasn’t American. There was no way he’d meant to  _ claim _ Jinwoo by giving him the jacket. How would anyone know it was his anyway?

Only in the movie, the girl wore the boy’s jacket to school the next day and everyone stared at her as she walked to her locker, and some of the prettier, more popular girls seemed to know who the jacket belonged to and accused the girl of stealing it.

Jinwoo snuggled down further beneath Eunwoo’s jacket, which he had draped over him for warmth, and focused on the movie.

It ended predictably, with the boy and girl getting together after their misunderstanding was resolved. Everyone who’d picked on the girl or doubted the boy for their relationship got their comeuppance, and it was happily ever after.

“That was fun,” Sanha said, bouncing in his seat. He prodded Myungjun in the side. “We should sing one of those songs from the movie, you and me. I brought my guitar.”

“Both of you are terrible at English,” Bin pointed out.

“You’re no better than we are.” Myungjun tossed his head. Then he turned to Sanha. “Which song do you want?”

Sanha fished his phone out of his pocket and looked up the entire soundtrack listing for the movie.

Jinwoo stretched and yawned. “Well, that was fun. But I should get back to my house and study for a bit.”

“What we should do is go outside since it’s a nice day,” Bin said.

“Go outside and do what?” Jinwoo asked.

Minhyuk said, “How about we go play some soccer?” He stood up and shook his limbs out.

“Oooh, soccer sounds fun!” Myungjun said. He hopped to his feet and latched onto Bin’s arm. “Be on my team. I know you’re a really good goalie.”

Bin eyed him. “But are you any good at soccer?”

“He’s actually a really good shooter,” Sanha said. In elementary school, he’d played on his school’s soccer team. These days he was a bit clumsy because he was growing so fast, but he had good foundational skills.

“There are five of us,” Jinwoo said. “Either we need a sixth person or one of us needs to sit out.”

“Or we could rotate.” Minhyuk dug in the hall closet and came up with a soccer ball. He bounced it a few times to test its inflation level.

“Do we want to ask your little brother to play with us?” Sanha asked.

“He’s out at a friend’s house.” Minhyuk headed for the door.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure he wanted to play, but - why not? He hadn’t really played in a friendly game in a long time. He wanted to see if his skills really had improved from all that practice. Coach Im thought he’d looked good, but that was compared to all the other boys in his PE class, including boys who really weren’t any good at soccer.

So he went and pulled on his shoes, and together the five of them headed down the hill from their neighborhood and to a nearby park where there was a big enough grassy space for a game.

Minhyuk had grabbed water bottles and some cones, because there were always soccer supplies at his house, and they set up two goals. It was decided that Bin and Sanha would be the goalies, as the two tallest. Myungjun insisted on being on Bin’s team, and Minhyuk decided to be on Sanha’s team, leaving Jinwoo as the scorekeeper and ref until it was time to switch out.

After weeks of training with Eunwoo, plus watching soccer skills videos online, Jinwoo noticed a lot more about how the others played, their technique and footwork and speed. Minhyuk was a sharp shooter, always went fast and low to one of the corners, but Bin was tall and long-limbed and defended well. Myungjun was fast and shot with more force than accuracy, but because Sanha was still a bit clumsy, Myungjun managed to get quite a few goals in.

Minhyuk was aggressive and could turn on a dime, was fast and had good footwork, but Myungjun had surprising aggression, and a couple of times he managed to steal the ball from Minhyuk and charge down the field toward Sanha.

After a while, the goalies rotated with the players. Bin had a clear advantage over Sanha, with better footwork and speed. Sanha’s clumsiness betrayed him, and while he was very determined, he was occasionally intimidated by Bin’s aggression. Myungjun was not a particularly effective goalie, cheering and jumping up and down in his space between the goal cones and distracting himself with his enthusiasm. Minhyuk was a better goalie, but he was often distracted by shouting advice at Sanha across the grass.

Fifteen minutes after that, the four of them took a break, plopping down in the grass beside Jinwoo and sharing the water bottles.

“You know,” Myungjun said, “whichever team has Jinwoo rotate in has a distinct advantage, because he’s fresher than all of us.”

“How about a sixth player, then?”

All of them turned - and there was Eunwoo, standing on the edge of the grass.

It was Bin who jumped up and greeted him first, which made sense, because they were in the same class. “Hey, you’re back! What are you doing here?”

Jinwoo stared, wide-eyed. For all that he’d watched that video of Eunwoo playing piano over and over again and received more than his fair share of pictures in their emails, he’d forgotten how Eunwoo  _ really _ looked in person.

He was wearing track pants and a t-shirt and had a water bottle in hand.

He looked like a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day.

“I was just out for a run,” Eunwoo said, “and I heard familiar voices.” He smiled.

Jinwoo swallowed hard. He’d hung Eunwoo’s jacket from a branch of a nearby tree so it wouldn’t get damp and dirty on the grass.

“Come join our team, then,” Bin said.

Minhyuk beckoned to Jinwoo. “You’re on our team.”

Eunwoo trotted over to them and set down his water bottle, untied his jacket from around his waist and set it down as well. He did a few stretches, but he was warmed up from running.

“I’m out,” Sanha said. “Let Minhyuk stay as the goalie. I’ll be the ref.”

“And I’ll keep score,” Bin said. “Myungjun should stay on as goalie.”

Myungjun nodded and offered him a salute.

Sanha placed the ball in the middle of their improvised soccer pitch. “Ready?”

Jinwo, heart pounding, moved to stand opposite Eunwoo. “I didn’t realize you’d be back already. You didn’t say.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Eunwoo said.

“Well, we’re surprised,” Bin said.

“But don’t worry,” Sanha added. “It’s a good surprise.”

Right. It wasn’t just Felix and Steven, like with their emails. 

“Go!” Sanha said.

Jinwoo hesitated, which was the wrong thing to do, because Eunwoo dashed in and took the ball and headed straight for Minhyuk.

Jinwoo scrambled to catch up to him, but Eunwoo had already taken a shot. Minhyuk blocked, tossed the ball to Jinwoo, and Jinwoo immediately headed for Sanha. He sensed more than saw Eunwoo catching up to him, and he angled himself between Eunwoo and the ball, switched feet, circled the ball with one foot and then kicked with the other, spinning past Eunwoo and taking the ball away from him.

He managed a low, fast shot past Myungjun.

While they waited for Myungjun to retrieve the ball, Eunwoo said, “I taught you that.”

“I did say I’ve been practicing.” Jinwoo didn’t dare look Eunwoo in the eye, because Eunwoo would see him and  _ know _ Jinwoo had a crush on him. Right now Eunwoo could assume Jinwoo’s cheeks were red because they were running around.

“I’m glad,” Eunwoo said. “I’ve been practicing too.”

And then the ball flew past Jinwoo’s head and Eunwoo let it bounce off his chest, caught it in the air with his knee and took off.

“Yah, hyung, pay attention!” Minhyuk shouted.

Right. Minhyuk coached from the goal.

Eunwoo was a better soccer player, Jinwoo knew that, but that didn’t mean he had to lose  _ badly. _ Jinwoo told himself to focus, stay in the game. It was surprisingly easy to do, because with Eunwoo right there, it was easy to remember the things Eunwoo had taught him about footwork and control and speed. They were neck-and-neck, alternating attacks on each other’s goals, alternating scores, and after fifteen minutes, the score was four-four.

Myungjun retrieved the ball after another of Jinwoo’s goals, tossed it to Eunwoo.

Jinwoo dove to intercept it.

He and Eunwoo collided, tumbled to the grass in a tangle of limbs.

“Yah!” Myungjun shouted. “Don’t injure my player!”

“Hyung! Are you okay?” That was Minhyuk.

It took Jinwoo a moment to catch his breath. Then he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Eunwoo was curled in a ball beside him. “Oh no! Are you all right? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so aggressive.”

Eunwoo took a deep breath, then pushed himself up, looking a bit wobbly. “I’m fine. I was just winded for a moment. Don’t worry. I’ve had worse spills in actual games. Besides, you learned that aggression from me, so I’m proud of you.”

Jinwoo stared at him. “Really?”

Eunwoo nodded. “You weren’t nearly as aggressive before.”

“Eunwoo’s right,” Minhyuk said, coming closer to Jinwoo as he climbed to his feet.

Jinwoo offered Eunwoo a hand, and Eunwoo accepted.

“You  _ are _ a more aggressive player than before,” Minhyuk said. He eyed Eunwoo. “In fact, your playing style is kind of familiar.”

Eunwoo dusted himself off and grinned at Jinwoo, who felt his heart flutter. “Let’s keep on playing, shall we?”

Jinwoo nodded.

“Ref!” Myungjun shouted. “Call a foul on Jinwoo!”

“It’s fine,” Eunwoo insisted. “Let’s go!”

They played for another half hour, and then they all collapsed on the grass together, panting and sweating under the afternoon sun. It was hotter than Jinwoo had expected it to be - but it was almost summer, wasn’t it? Because Eunwoo was back. Since summer was coming, Jinwoo didn’t need to keep warm anymore. He should give Eunwoo’s purple jacket back.

But not where the others were watching.

They shared water bottles and recounted the best moments of the game.

“Hyung,” Minhyuk said, nudging Jinwoo. “That thing you did with your foot, where you circled the ball and then kicked it the other way - that was cool. You never used to do that before.”

Jinwoo preened. “What can I say? I had a good teacher.”

“Are you going to join the soccer team next year?” Eunwoo asked.

Minhyuk nudged Jinwoo again. “You might actually be able to pull it off. Then we could spend more time together.”

“You live across the street from me and treat my house as if it’s your own. Do we  _ need _ to spend more time together?” Jinwoo asked. 

“If you join the soccer team you can get a letter jacket of your own and then give back the one you stole,” Minhyuk said.

Sanha’s eyes went wide. “You  _ stole _ someone’s letter jacket?”

“I did no such thing,” Jinwoo protested.

Myungjun said to Sanha in a very loud whisper, “He totally did. He used to beat up jocks all the time.”

“It was  _ one time,” _ Jinwoo said, avoiding Eunwoo’s curious gaze, “many years ago, and it wasn’t jocks in particular. It was jocks who happened to be picking on Minhyuk’s younger brother while Minhyuk was away at a soccer camp and couldn’t handle it himself. And I didn’t take any of their jackets. They don’t give out letter jackets in middle school.”

“You think Bin is the scary one, but it’s really Jinwoo,” Myungjun said to Sanha.

“I’m not that scary,” Bin said. “I am stronger than Jinwoo, though.” He flexed his bicep, and Jinwoo had to admit that his hard work at the gym was paying off.

“Where did you get that jacket, then?” Sanha asked, pointing to the tree where Minhyuk had hung it.

“Like I told Minhyuk on more than one occasion, I’m looking after it for a friend.”

“We’re your only friends,” Minhyuk said.

Jinwoo flung a handful of grass at him, and Minhyuk tried to retaliate, only he hit Myungjun, who let out a yell and dove at him, and they devolved into a six-person disaster before Eunwoo let out a yelp and they scrambled apart, laughing and apologizing at the same time.

It was Minhyuk who stood first, to gather up his soccer supplies. Sanha, Bin, and Myungjun went to help him, leaving Jinwoo and Eunwoo on the grass.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jinwoo said, “I’ll wash it before I give it back.”

Eunwoo blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“Your jacket.”

“O-oh. Thank you for taking such good care of it.”

Jinwoo smiled. “I know how hard you worked to earn it. I respect your hard work.”

Eunwoo ducked his head. “It looks like you’ve worked very hard, too, while I’ve been gone.”

“I said I did. In my emails.” Jinwoo eyed him. “Why, did you say things that weren’t true in your emails?”

“No,” Eunwoo said very quickly.

Jinwoo arched an eyebrow.

“It’s just - it’s hard to tell how someone means something, in an email. If you can’t see their face and hear their voice,” Eunwoo said.

“True. Usually you end up hearing it how you want to hear it and not how it was meant, which can lead to misunderstandings.” Which was why Jinwoo didn’t think, for one second, that Eunwoo had missed Jinwoo nearly as much as Jinwoo had missed him.

“I guess you don’t need soccer lessons anymore,” Eunwoo said.

“Really?”

Eunwoo nodded. “You’ve gotten really good in a fairly short time. If you want to get better, you’ll want professional-grade coaching.”

Jinwoo felt a familiar twinge of guilt. “Well - thank you. For teaching me for as long as you did. Welcome back.” He swallowed down an  _ I missed you. _

“Thanks,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo pushed himself to his feet before he said or did something that would give him away completely. “I’ll see you at school on Monday with the clean jacket. Have a good weekend!” He ran and grabbed the jacket from the tree, and then he ran all the way home so he’d have a good excuse about why his cheeks were all red again.

* * *

For the rest of the weekend, Jinwoo wondered what to do. Should he send Eunwoo messages in their chat now that he was back? Could they still trade emails as Felix and Steven? Or was their acquaintance over now that Eunwoo was back and had decided Jinwoo no longer needed soccer coaching?

Jinwoo washed Eunwoo’s jacket by hand very carefully one last time and laid it out to dry, and then he lay on his bed and watched the video of Eunwoo playing piano over and over again.

On Monday morning it was strange, to see Eunwoo on the walk to school, to see him in the hallway before class and during the morning break. Jinwoo had brought Eunwoo’s jacket with him, folded up neatly and in a bag with a little thank-you card for letting Jinwoo borrow it to stay warm and also the soccer lessons. He kept the bag in his locker and wondered what the best way would be to return it without being too obvious. Or should he not worry about being obvious, since all he’d done was borrow a friend’s jacket? Not that Eunwoo was his friend. Or that Jinwoo hadn’t borrowed jackets from Minhyuk and Myungjun and even Sanha before (Sanha before his unfair growth spurt, at any rate).

Jinwoo was hyperaware of Eunwoo all morning while he tried to think of a discreet way to meet up. He wasn’t the only one, though - he heard all the girls buzzing about Eunwoo’s return in the hallways. The one time he’d gone down to Eunwoo and Bin’s classroom to try to see Eunwoo, there had been a crowd of girls in the hallway.

Finally, Jinwoo sent Eunwoo a message in their chat asking to meet after school. No one would notice if they both ducked away from their cleaning duties for a few minutes. Eunwoo replied quickly. They’d meet at the goal post on the far end of the field during cleaning time.

Jinwoo felt relief spread through his limbs. That was much easier than he’d thought it would be. Of course he’d over-complicated things for himself. He went through the rest of his school day feeling calmer, and he stayed alert in classes, paying attention and taking notes diligently. After classes, he started on his cleaning assignment - sweeping the hallway his grade’s homerooms were on so someone else could mop it - and, ten minutes before chores were scheduled to end, he put up his broom and headed to his locker. He grabbed the bag with Eunwoo’s jacket and headed down to the soccer pitch. His heart was thumping. He hadn’t been alone with Eunwoo like this in months, although in some ways reading his emails felt like being alone with him again, even if he couldn’t feel Eunwoo’s warmth and hear his voice.

Jinwoo felt a bit foolish and awkward, lingering behind the goalpost, but Eunwoo arrived a couple of minutes later.

“Hello.” Eunwoo smiled faintly.

Jinwoo smiled at him and bowed, held the bag out. “Your jacket, freshly washed, just like I promised.”

Eunwoo stared at the bag.

Jinwoo added, “I was very careful with it and checked the tag for washing instructions and everything. And - I promise that wasn’t the only time I washed it.”

“Of course,” Eunwoo said finally, accepting the bag. “Thank you.”

Jinwoo couldn’t read his expression. “You’re welcome. And - thank you. For letting me stay warm while you were gone. The jacket fit well. You’re taller than me but not too much broader than me - yet, I suppose.”

Eunwoo swallowed hard. “Jinwoo, about my jacket -”

“Hey, hyung, is that you? What are you doing back there?”

Jinwoo spun around.

Minhyuk was strolling across the pitch, uniform shirt unbuttoned to reveal his t-shirt beneath, a soccer ball tucked against his hip.

Oh no. Minhyuk with his knowing eyes and pointed glances. He’d see Jinwoo with Eunwoo and  _ know. _

“I’m sorry, I’d better go finish my chore. See you around, Eunwoo. Thanks for the soccer lessons.” 

And Jinwoo fled.

* * *

He supposed he should have expected things to be distant between him and Eunwoo after that. They had no reason to talk or communicate anymore, besides polite acknowledgment when they saw each other in the hallways, but - Jinwoo didn’t see Eunwoo in the hallways. At all. The couple of times he glimpsed Eunwoo, it was from a distance, and the other boy didn’t seem to notice him at all. There were rumors that Eunwoo was going to run for class president next year - he’d been class president every year in elementary school and middle school and even been school president one time. He had other people he needed to help and spend time with. That’s what a good leader did.

Now that Eunwoo’s duty to Jinwoo was complete, Jinwoo was back to...what?

Sitting on the sidelines and taking pictures. Since Eunwoo was handsome and popular and involved in so many school activities, it made sense that Jinwoo had lots of pictures of him, right? Pictures of him in a fine suit playing the piano at a school-wide recital, or in a sleek black uniform playing his violin with the orchestra, or wearing his uniform casually as he sat with Sanha and Myungjun after school one day and played his guitar with Sanha while Sanha and Myungjun sang.

Jinwoo still practiced soccer after school sometimes, though with the weather turning nicer more and more students stayed after school to play, so Jinwoo could play games instead of just running drills by himself in the cold.

Even though Eunwoo was back in the same country and city and neighborhood and school as Jinwoo, Jinwoo missed him even more. He reread the emails they’d exchanged and looked at the pictures Eunwoo had sent him and he watched that video of Eunwoo playing piano and cursed himself for his stupid, hopeless crush. 

Eunwoo had been home for a month and a half and it felt like forever, a long, dull forever shaded over with the haze of Jinwoo’s camera lens, like his life was ever so out-of-focus all the time.

More than once, Jinwoo opened up their old chat - which was getting pushed further and further down the list of ‘recently opened’ chats on his phone - and scrolled back through the old messages, the pictures and videos and little emojis, and wondered if he really had only been some kind of project for Eunwoo, one more step on the path toward popularity and power. But then Jinwoo reread the old emails he’d received from Felix, and he wondered why Eunwoo would bother to talk about his family and fun food he ate and music he liked if Jinwoo was just a charity project. People could do charity work without getting all personal like that, right? Although Eunwoo had always gone above and beyond in everything he did.

Jinwoo didn’t want to think of himself as a charity case. But he didn’t know what he was to Eunwoo either. He hadn’t been a friend. He’d been an acquaintance and a temporary pen-pal, or whatever the email equivalent was. And now he was - nothing.

Late one Friday night after a gig, Jinwoo was sprawled on his bed, watching that old video of Eunwoo playing piano (he had newer, better videos of Eunwoo playing fancier, more impressive songs at school recitals, but he liked to imagine that Eunwoo had made this video just for him, whatever his motivation had been). His father was out celebrating with his bandmates, and his mother had gone out for her monthly sister-in-law dinner with Minhyuk’s mother, so Jinwoo had the house all to himself. He could turn up his videos as loud as he wanted; he could listen to the music his parents hated; he could have loud video game tournaments with Myungjun and Sanha and cackle with glee as he defeated them all, because he was the superior video game player among his friends. But he was watching Eunwoo play piano again and again.

“I didn’t think you were the type.”

Jinwoo sat up quickly, set his phone down. “Mom! You’re home early!”

She glanced at her watch, then raised her eyebrows at him.

He looked at his own watch. “Oh. It’s - much later than I thought. Did you have fun with Aunt?”

“I always do.” His mother smiled. “I’m glad you’re expanding your musical taste, though. Your father has fine taste in music, but it is a bit narrow sometimes.”

“I like hip-hop,” Jinwoo pointed out.

“And the classics too.” His mother nodded at his phone.

“Well, I do go to the school orchestra performances,” Jinwoo said.

His mother shook her head. “I don’t mean classical music, I mean - you have no idea what that song even is, do you?”

“It’s...pretty?” Jinwoo offered, because the main attraction of the song was that Eunwoo was playing it.

His mother hummed and began to sing, in surprisingly good English.

_ Fly me to the moon _

_ Let me play among the stars _

_ Let me see what spring is like  _

_ On Jupiter and Mars _

The tune was precisely the one Eunwoo was playing.

Jinwoo glanced down at his phone, then back up at his mother.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course your mother knows some love songs. I am married, you know. Musicians are very romantic.”

Jinwoo felt himself blushing, and his mother laughed. 

“It’s a pretty rendition of the song,” she said, nodding toward his phone once more. “Whoever is playing is giving it a lot of feeling. Don’t stay up too late, son.” She crossed the room, kissed him on the cheek, and then departed with a wave. She closed the door behind her.

As soon as it clicked shut, Jinwoo unlocked his phone and went hunting on YouTube for a performance of the song. He wasn’t that into the easy-listening old-fashioned singing style of Frank Sinatra, but he listened to the song anyway.

Afterward, Jinwoo fired up the video of Eunwoo playing the piano and listened to it. Eunwoo only played half the song, but given that the lyrics repeated, only playing half was fine. Eunwoo was much better at English than Jinwoo was. Surely he knew the lyrics to the song? Eunwoo’s taste in music did run to the more gentle and old-fashioned, Jinwoo remembered from their emails.

Jinwoo watched the video again, singing along softly, trying to fit the lyrics to the melody even though he knew his pronunciation was suffering because he was trying to stay in tune. Sometimes Jinwoo sang along when he was playing drums for a song, or at least mouthed the lyrics if he knew them well, but Eunwoo wasn’t singing along at all, seemed pretty focused on his playing, although he knew the song well enough that he could smile at the camera once in a while.

Jinwoo watched the video again, mouthing the lyrics as he went, imagining Eunwoo singing them with his pretty soft voice.

_ In other words, hold my hand _

Eunwoo smiled at the camera.

_ In other words, darling, kiss me _

Jinwoo blinked. That was just a coincidence, wasn’t it?

But then on the second verse, Eunwoo smiled at the camera again.

_ In other words, I love you _

No way. Jinwoo watched the video again, but the two times Eunwoo smiled at the camera were during those specific lyrics. Was it really the lyrics? Maybe it was that specific melodic phrase that made Eunwoo smile, because it was the same place in both verses.

Jinwoo set his phone aside and closed his eyes, swallowed hard. It was wishful thinking. There was no way Eunwoo felt that way about him.

Jinwoo still hoped.

* * *

The next morning, Jinwoo opened up his email inbox and sent a message to Eunwoo before he could chicken out.

_ Dear Felix, _

_ We should play soccer again sometime. _

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

It was the best he could do after he’d written and then deleted a thousand things he shouldn’t say, like  _ I miss you _ and  _ I want to kiss you. _

Then he set his phone aside and got started with his day, studying hard.

He did his best to only check his phone when he got an incoming alert and not linger and poke around other apps once he was done responding to the alert.

Eunwoo didn’t email him back. As diligent a student as he was, he was probably studying harder than Jinwoo, avoiding all distractions while he worked.

Once Jinwoo was finished with his homework, he grabbed a soccer ball and went out to the park down the hill so he could run around, get some fresh air and work on some drills. He left his phone behind, because he was supposed to unplug and relax, right? Get in touch with nature, enjoy the sun and sky and grass, the warmer weather and cotton-y clouds.

But while he dashed back and forth across the grass, he could imagine Eunwoo standing on the sidelines calling out to him, telling him to shift his balance so he could turn faster, telling him to keep his head up while he dribbled the ball.

After a while, Jinwoo sprawled on the grass and closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight.

Did he really  _ like _ Eunwoo, or had he just liked having Eunwoo’s attention, knowing he was handsome and popular and talented?  _ Should _ he even like Eunwoo, if Eunwoo was the kind of person to just ignore him after all the time they spent together and the emails they traded? 

But Jinwoo thought of the pictures Eunwoo had sent, and the things he’d written in his emails. Their relationship over the past couple of months felt like a parallel universe to this one, a warm, quiet world where Felix and Steven, both lovers of soccer and music, could be friends no matter the distance between them, could share tales from their childhoods and insights into their current passions. In the real world, Eunwoo was too handsome and popular for Jinwoo, who was forever hidden behind his camera.

“Just so you know, you’re kind of dumb.”

Jinwoo opened his eyes and cursed, squeezed them shut and flung his forearm up to block out the sunlight, but it was already too late.

Minhyuk added, “Given that two of my best friends are known as  _ Dumb and Dumber, _ that’s really saying something.”

Jinwoo blinked a few times, then sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pretty sure my grades are at least as good as yours, if not better. I’m better at English.”

“Eunwoo would be well within his rights to hate you.” Minhyuk plopped down on the grass beside him.

“What? Why? I didn’t do anything to him.” But Jinwoo’s heart pounded. 

“Well, yes, that’s kind of the problem.” Minhyuk picked some dandelions and started to weave them into a crown with very careful hands.

“I don’t understand.” Jinwoo rubbed his eyes again and peered at Minhyuk.

Minhyuk said, “Obviously. So, in your defense, Eunwoo is being kind of dumb too.”

Jinwoo ripped up a handful of grass and flung it at Minhyuk. “Say it plainly!”

Minhyuk shook his head. “No. I’m tired of being the messenger.”

“You’ve been a terrible one if the message isn’t getting across,” Jinwoo said.

Minhyuk heaved an aggrieved sigh and brushed the grass off of his clothes, though a few strands lingered in his hair. “Whatever. Just - try not to be so dumb in the future.” He stood up, dusted himself off. “Be brave, hyung.” He turned and walked away.

Jinwoo almost took off a shoe to throw at him.  _ “Yah! _ What do you mean?”

Minhyuk waved and kept on walking.

Jinwoo stared after him, befuddled and frustrated, till he was out of sight. Finally, he hauled himself to his feet, scooped up his soccer ball, and headed home. 

Now that he was done with studying for the day, he had to help with the major chores around the house.

“I could use a hand with the laundry,” his mother said as he was tucking the soccer ball into the hall closet.

“I’ll wash up and be right there,” he said. He hurried up the stairs and picked out some clean clothes. He checked his phone for any new messages, and he paused.

New email from Silver The Cat.

_ Dear Steven, _

_ Let’s play after school on Monday. I’ll bring a ball. _

_ Felix _

Something in Jinwoo’s chest twisted. Eunwoo hadn’t signed the email with the cartoon of Felix the Cat.

Jinwoo checked the timestamp on the email and saw that Eunwoo had sent it recently.

He typed back a reply.

_ Felix, _

_ See you Monday!  _

_ Sincerely yours, _

_ Steven _

Then Jinwoo thought of what Minhyuk had said, the only thing he’d said that had made any kind of sense:  _ Be brave, hyung. _

Jinwoo added,  _ P.S., I’ve missed you. _

And he hit send.

* * *

All day Sunday, Jinwoo didn’t check the email on his phone, went so far as to shut off the notification button so he wasn’t confronted with the little red dot for unread messages in the corner of the email app icon every time he checked something else on his phone. He spent time with his family; he studied; he helped with chores. His brother dropped by for a meal, and the entire family ended up sitting in the den together, talking and laughing and jamming, Jinyoung on guitar, Jinwoo on the drums, their father using another guitar to carry a vague bass line, their mother singing.

After supper, everyone helped clean up, and then it was time to bid Jinyoung farewell. His mother got teary-eyed at the door, which made Jinyoung roll his eyes.

“Eomma, I’m just going back to my apartment, I’m not enlisting.”

She swatted him on the arm. “Yah! Don’t talk about that. That’s years away.”

“Maybe,” Jinyoung said, which earned him another swat.

“Do well, son, and work hard,” their father said, and Jinyoung nodded.

“Have fun,” Jinwoo said.

Jinyoung winked. “I will. And hey, if I meet any pretty noonas who might be interested in a short little guy like you, I’ll let you know.”

Their mother threw a protective arm around Jinwoo’s shoulders and tugged him close against her side. “No. You leave my precious, innocent baby alone. He’ll never get a girlfriend and he’ll always take care of me, right, Jinnie?”

“You’re not that much taller than me,” Jinwoo protested. He was pretty sure he would never have a girlfriend. Would his mother still want him so close if she knew he wanted a boyfriend?

Jinyoung finally departed, and Jinwoo headed up to his own room. 

As he lay in bed, looking at all the pictures Eunwoo had sent him that he’d saved in his phone, he told himself to be brave, at least once. 

* * *

All through classes on Monday, Jinwoo was quiet. Nervous. Watching the clock on the wall steadily tick toward the end of the school day. He finished his chore quickly, and then he ran down to the snack shop to buy a couple of bottles of water, and finally he headed out to the soccer pitch. 

Eunwoo was already there, standing beside the goal, soccer ball tucked against his hip. Jinwoo tried to smile and failed when Eunwoo met his gaze coolly.

“Let’s play,” Eunwoo said. “Just you and me. Half pitch.”

Jinwoo swallowed hard. “Okay. Let’s play.”

Both of them set their backpacks and blazers on the bleachers, and they walked to the center of the pitch. Eunwoo set down the ball, and both of them backed up five paces.

Eunwoo shouted, “Go!”

Jinwoo didn’t have time to think. He just ran. Eunwoo got the ball first. Jinwoo stole it, started dribbling for the goal. Eunwoo charged at him, ready for a tackle. Jinwoo nudged the ball aside with one foot, dodged. Eunwoo turned with him.

Their legs tangled.

They both went down hard.

Jinwoo landed on the bottom, because Eunwoo had been carrying a lot more forward momentum when they collided. He lay on the prickly damp grass, winded, stifled by Eunwoo’s weight and heat.

Eunwoo scrambled off him immediately. “Are you all right?”

Jinwoo nodded wordlessly, still unable to breathe.

Eunwoo crouched beside him. “Here, let me help you up.”

Jinwoo tried to speak, but he still hadn’t caught his breath. Eunwoo slid an arm under his neck and sat him up, then pounded him on the back till he could breathe.

“Thanks,” Jinwoo gasped out, eyes watering.

Eunwoo sighed. “I didn’t mean to be so rough.”

“You’re just really competitive.” Jinwoo shrugged and tried to smile, coughed again.

Eunwoo smoothed a hand up and down his back. “I’m really sorry.”

“You know,” Jinwoo said, “we never set a prize or a punishment. For winning and losing our game. We didn’t set parameters, either. When does the game end - five goals? Ten?” He peeked at Eunwoo.

Eunwoo’s gaze was distant. Then he snatched his hand away and sank back on his haunches, putting space between himself and Jinwoo.

“Did you really miss me, or were you just saying it?” Eunwoo asked.

Jinwoo didn’t miss the sulky note in his tone. “When have I ever said something in one of my emails that wasn’t true?”

“Then why did you reject my confession?” Eunwoo demanded.

Jinwoo’s heart started to pound. “What confession?”

“I gave you my letter jacket.” Eunwoo pointed to the bleachers, where his jacket was draped over his backpack just like Jinwoo had done many times during the months while Eunwoo was gone.

“You said I could borrow your jacket till you got back,” Jinwoo said slowly.

“Obviously if we broke up you’d give it back.” Eunwoo avoided his gaze.

“How was I supposed to know that was a confession?”

Eunwoo muttered, “Minhyuk said he showed you the movie.”

Jinwoo knew exactly which movie he was talking about. “I saw the movie, yes, but I had no idea you had anything to do with it. Myungjun-hyung picked it.”

“Did he  _ say _ he picked it?”

Jinwoo nodded.

Eunwoo sighed. “I told Minhyuk to be subtle about it. He must have asked Myungjun to say he picked it. That was too subtle.”

“It was,” Jinwoo agreed, shaken. Eunwoo had confessed to him?

“But - I sent you a love song, too.” Eunwoo cast him a pointed look and hummed a familiar tune.

_ In other words, hold my hand. _

“How was I supposed to know it was a love song? I thought it was just a pretty song you were playing on the piano.” Jinwoo dragged a hand through his hair. This whole time, Eunwoo had liked him. This whole time, they could have been - what?

_ In other words, darling, kiss me. _

“You said your father likes old music.”

“Old like 1970’s rock-n-roll and metal, not 1950’s easy listening.”

“Admittedly, the song was first released in 1954, but the popular Frank Sinatra recording wasn’t released until 1964.” Eunwoo still looked sulky.

His mouth was so pretty when he pouted.

He cast Jinwoo another look. “How did you know it was from the 1950’s?”

“Ah - my mother heard the song when I was watching the video you sent me one time and mentioned it to me,” Jinwoo said.

“So you figured out the song was a love song.”

“Well - yes.”

“But you still gave the jacket back?” Eunwoo sounded incredulous.

Jinwoo threw his hands up. “I only found out what the song was after I’d given the jacket back. Besides, why would I be stupid enough to think, for one second, that a boy like you would like a boy like me, if you even liked boys at all?”

“Because I gave you my letter jacket and played you a love song!”

“You said I should look out for your jacket while you were gone and then you sent me a video of you playing the piano.”

“Okay, fine, maybe I was trying too hard to be subtle.” Eunwoo reached out, curled his hand around Jinwoo’s wrist. “Park Jinwoo, do you like me?”

Jinwoo met his gaze. “Yes.”

Eunwoo’s eyes went wide, but then he smiled, bright and sweet and far more beautiful than Jinwoo could ever deserve. “I like you too,” he said. 

Jinwoo wanted to ask why, but then Eunwoo jumped to his feet, hurried over to the bleachers. He grabbed his jacket and came back, knelt in front of Jinwoo and held it out. 

“Will you keep this and wear it?”

Jinwoo stared at him, heart still pounding.

“So everyone knows you’re mine,” Eunwoo said.

Jinwoo nodded slowly. Eunwoo reached out, draped the jacket around Jinwoo’s shoulders, just like one of those moments in a romantic drama, when the leading man put a jacket on a girl so she wouldn’t be cold. They were close enough to kiss, if Jinwoo dared to move closer to the beautiful boy opposite him.

“Why?” he asked.

Eunwoo blinked, hands stilling where he’d been straightening the collar. “Why what?”

“Why me?”

“Because,” Eunwoo said, “I like you.”

“But  _ why? _ You have to have a reason.”

Eunwoo said, “Reasons are for people you’re meant to lose. And I don’t plan on losing you, Park Jinwoo.”

Jinwoo’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t plan on being lost.”

Again with that sweet, brilliant smile.

Eunwoo stood, helped Jinwoo to his feet. Eunwoo scooped up the soccer ball, and they headed back to the bleachers.

“What now?” Jinwoo asked.

“Now,” Eunwoo said, “we agree that this is our day one.”

Jinwoo nodded.

“And you walk me as far as you can in the direction of my little brother’s hagwon before you have to go home, and I’ll text you when I’ve met my brother, and you’ll text me when you get home, and I’ll text you when my brother and I get home, and I’ll text you after dinner, and you’ll call me before you go to sleep, and -”

Jinwoo leaned in and kissed him.

It was brief and warm.

When they pulled back, Eunwoo was blushing brightly.

“Today,” Jinwoo said, “is also the day of our first kiss.”

Eunwoo nodded.

“Come on. I’ll walk with you toward your brother’s hagwon.”

Eunwoo nodded again.

Jinwoo laced their fingers together, and they set off.

* * *

The next day, Jinwoo wore Eunwoo’s jacket to school, because he could. Heads turned when he passed, but he didn’t care. He went to class, he paid attention to his lessons, he did as much homework as he could during his breaks, and during lunch he ate quickly so he could get back to doing homework. After school, he shrugged off his jacket while he did his cleaning chore, and then he put it back on and headed down to the soccer pitch to practice taking action shots for a few minutes before he headed home.

Minhyuk, Sanha, Bin, Eunwoo, and several other boys were standing around with a soccer ball, playing rock-paper-scissors to decide teams and who should start with possession in the absence of a ref.

“Hyung,” Minhyuk called out, and trotted over to him. “You want to join our game?”

“Maybe next time,” Jinwoo said. He held up his camera. “I’m practicing today. You want me to make you look good when you join the high school team, right? So you have good action shots to show to scouts when they come to your games.”

Minhyuk nodded, but he didn’t take the bait. “Where did you get that jacket from?”

“Did you beat up some jocks again?” Sanha added, popping up beside Minhyuk.

Jinwoo smoothed a hand over the sleeve. “No. Eunwoo gave it to me.”

Sanha’s eyes went wide, and he twisted around to peer at Eunwoo, who was talking to Bin while he did some arm stretches.

“You going to keep it this time?” Minhyuk asked.

Jinwoo nodded.

Sanha turned back to Jinwoo. “You mean - like in that movie we watched?”

Jinwoo nodded.

Sanha blushed.  _ “Daebak. _ So are you dating now?”

Jinwoo nodded again, smiling.

“Congratulations,” Minhyuk said. He headed back onto the pitch. “C’mon, Sanha, we have a game to win!”

“Congratulations,” Sanha said, and trotted after Minhyuk.

Jinwoo watched them go, then took the lens cap off his camera. He peered through the viewfinder as he adjusted the aperture and focus, turning the dials slowly until - 

There. He could see, with perfect clarity, Eunwoo as he stood waiting for the game to start, gaze alert, body tense. 

Jinwoo smiled to himself and took a picture. It was, he knew, the first of many.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the purple jackets the boys are wearing in the 4th AAF promo posters. I want one...


End file.
